


Room for One More Troubled Soul

by VileVenom



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood, Carlos is Human, Catholic Spain-1700's, Cecil is Inhuman, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Religious Themes, Self Harm, Some Fluff, Supernatural Elements, Violence, but it's sort of temporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VileVenom/pseuds/VileVenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I might ask, though, what are you doing in the abbey this time of the evening? You weren’t here when I came in to blow out the candles. Are you, perhaps, lost? Do you want me to fetch one of the Fathers?" Carlos asked, stepping forward towards the other.</p><p>"Oh! No, no. Please, don’t put yourself to the trouble," the other gushed, waving a hand through the air. Carlos could have sworn he saw a blush rise to the others cheeks. "I’m afraid I often come here after everyone else has gone. It feels more comfortable, to me, in the dark. I’m afraid I walked in just as you were blowing out the last of the candles. I thought everyone was off to bed already. I hadn’t realized anyone was still up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room for One More Troubled Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fair warning to start with; this fic is completely unbeta'd.  
> It's also been sitting in my drafts on Tumblr for over a month, and I haven't looked at it in just about as long.  
> So, apologies for any errors/odd grammar/general strangeness. 
> 
>  
> 
> See end of fic for vocab notes.
> 
> Title lyrics from 'Alone Together' by Fall Out Boy

Carlos sighed quietly as he blew out the last of the candles on the altar of the church, hoping he knew his way around the benches located throughout the church proper well enough that he would not fall on his way back out to the cloister. He hadn’t been at the abbey long enough to properly learn all of the ins and outs, but he figured that, by now, he should at least know his way through the church without stubbing his toe or tripping. Of course, when he had turned in the dark with not but a single stream of light coming from the doorway to guide him, he hadn’t expected to find someone standing behind him. This caused him to startle, and subsequently stumble and fall over and onto one of the benches.

"Oh!"

Carlos groaned as he shoved himself up off of the floor, his robes tangling around his feet as his rosary caught on a floorboard. He fell back as his foot slipped on the material and the string of the rosary was pulled taught.

"I am so sorry. I hadn’t meant to scare you."

Carlos somehow managed to untangle his rosary from the floorboard and hoist himself back up onto his feet, the mysterious figure who had startled him flittering about in the shadow not far from where he stood.

"Well, what else had you intended on accomplishing by standing silently in the dark?" Carlos snapped, before taking a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. "My apologies," he murmured after a beat, hoping it wasn’t one of the choir monks who had a penchant for handing out punishments. However, when he realized how young the figure sounded, he highly doubted it would be. Probably another lay monk, like himself. Though, one he’d obviously never met.

"Not at all," the other spoke, finally stepping into the light so Carlos could get a better look at him. He wore nothing but a simple tunic and pants, and no shoes to speak of. Carlos arched an eyebrow at him, tilting his head slightly.

"If I might ask, though, what are you doing in the abbey this time of the evening? You weren’t here when I came in to blow out the candles. Are you, perhaps, lost? Do you want me to fetch one of the Fathers?" he asked, stepping forward towards the other.

"Oh! No, no. Please, don’t put yourself to the trouble," the other gushed, waving a hand through the air. Carlos could have sworn he saw a blush rise to the others’ cheeks. "I often come here after everyone else has gone. It feels more comfortable, to me, in the dark. I’m afraid I walked in just as you were blowing out the last of the candles. I thought everyone was off to bed already. I hadn’t realized anyone was still up."

Carlos carefully tucked his hands into his sleeves, resting his arms across his stomach. “That’s awfully odd. Coming here in the dark. You know, the church is open at all times of the day for prayer. You needn’t come so late. In the early morning it is still quite cozy, if you wish to be alone?”

The other simply shook his head, letting out a quiet laugh. “Oh, no. Father, ah, the Father, he doesn’t like me wandering about during the day, you see. I’m given free reign at night, should I wish to roam, as long as I do not leave the abbey grounds.”

Carlos frowned lightly, watching the other fidget in the beam of light coming from the door. He was obviously not a lay monk, then. Perhaps an orphan then, since the monks tended to allow them refuge until they could be sent to become apprentices. Though, he appeared to be very close to Carlos in age, so that made little sense as well. He surely would have been sent off to find work by now, should that have been the case. Curious.

"Well, ah," Carlos floundered, stepping to the side to move around the other, "I really should be off to my chambers now. I’m already running late." He moved to step past the other, and begin towards the doors leading out to the cloister, when he paused at the other speaking once more.

"My name is Cecil," he offered, resting one hand delicately on the back of one of the benches, looking almost as though he were afraid to follow after Carlos.

Carlos offered the other-Cecil- a kind smile, and a short nod. “Carlos. I shall see you, perhaps, another time?” he asked, though given that he’d never seen Cecil before, he had begun to wonder if he was even supposed to have ever seen him at all.

"Perhaps," Cecil hummed, dancing his fingers across the polished wood of the bench, before offering Carlos a shy smile, and side stepping back into the darkness of the church.

Carlos swallowed thickly, before scurrying out onto the cloister and towards the dormitories, where his room was, wondering if he’d just been witness to a specter.

~

Carlos was, of course, not convinced he’d been witness to a specter come morning, rationalizing how silly that was. The likelihood of a ghost, let alone one that seemed so solid was preposterous at best. Thus, he went to the only person he figured would know who Cecil was, given the others mention of him.

"Father! Father Santiago! Sorry! May I have a moment?" Carlos waved his arm through the air as he jogged to catch up with the Father, who had moments before been in quiet conversation with one of the choir monks.

"Ah, young Santos. Of course, my child. I beg your pardon, I’ll catch up with you later," he bid the monk he’d previously been chatting to farewell, before turning his full attention to Carlos with a faint smile on his lips. "What may I assist you with on this fine day, my boy?"

Carlos internally cringed at Father Santiago calling him ‘child’ and ‘my boy’. He had a family back in Portugal, and he was hardly a child at the age of 18. “Father, I apologize for interrupting your conversation, but I have a bit of an urgent, if perhaps inconsequential, question for you. Last night, when I was closing up the church, a boy came in. He looked to be about my age, if that. He said his name was Cecil, but he did not wear the robes of a monk. I was curious to know if you knew who he was? It’s just that, he mentioned you. Well, not you specifically, since he only said ‘The Father’, but you’re the most prominent of the priests that actually socialize with anyone, so I was just wondering,” he rushed out, gasping for breath once he was finished.

The amiable smile that was previously on the Father’s face slipped into a rather stern frown, a wrinkle forming between his brows. He clicked his tongue as he glanced around quickly, before taking Carlos roughly by the arm and dragging him into the shadow of one of the cloisters pillars. “Young brother Santos. It is to my understanding that your mother sent you here to help clear your mind of ‘scientific’ inquiry, especially where you should not be putting your nose. I would suggest following that directive, and keeping your nose clean. Stick to your chores, go to prayer, and go to bed. Read your scriptures, and keep your head down. If you come across that boy again, ignore him. Am I understood?”

Carlos swallowed thickly as his arm was squeezed, before he quickly nodded his head. “Perfectly,” he squeaked as his arm was released and Father Santiago quickly walked away. Carlos let his weight fall against the side of the pillar as he gingerly rubbed at his aching arm, his curiosity anything but slagged. Especially at Father Santiago’s reaction to hearing Cecil’s’ name. If anything, it simply prompted him to find out more, if possible.

~

Carlos took his sweet time sweeping up the church later that night, bidding a quiet good night to the last of the monks as they filtered out to head to their chambers in the dormitory building. As one of the newest and youngest members of the clergy, he was tasked with the final cleaning and closing up of the church. He supposed they figured he could survive with the later nights, seeing as most of the other monks were in their late thirties or older. It had been unsurprising to him when they’d first told him this, and now he was secretly quite pleased by his ability to stay up and out later, without question. And tonight, he was going to put that fact to use. He’d meticulously wiped up the cobwebs forming in the windows, and swept under every bench to give himself extra time, in hopes that Cecil would appear once again. However, as he got down to having nothing left but to blow out the candles, he was beginning to doubt the other would come back out again.

He frowned minutely as he blew out the last candle, turning to peer into the darkness around him, before huffing out a disappointed breath when no lonely figure appeared.

~

The pattern continued as such for a week. Carlos would take his time cleaning up the church for the night, drawing out the simple tasks for as long as he could, in hopes of catching Cecil once more, to no avail. He was beginning to lose hope, when finally, on the eighth day, that lonely figure appeared once again.

Carlos grinned when he’d turned and found Cecil standing in the dark near the far east side of the altar, looking startled. His grin immediately fell when he noticed the way Cecil’s arm was bandaged below his shirt sleeve.

"I was hoping to see you again," he murmured quietly, approaching Cecil much like one would a wounded animal. "I’ve been taking my time cleaning for a week, in hopes of catching you in the dark again."

Cecil shifted in the shadows, stepping further behind the altar for a moment, as if frightened, before he seemed to rethink his movements, and stepped forward towards Carlos. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again,” Cecil whispered, his uninjured hand moving to cover the bandages subconsciously.

"Why ever would you think that?" Carlos hummed with a lopsided smile, finally coming to a stop a few feet from where Cecil stood.

"Because the Father, he told me that he’d warned you off, away from me. He said you wouldn’t want to see me, so I stayed away. But, I missed coming to the church, and you have been taking so long to clean lately, I just…I needed to see if he was right. But, it would seem not," Cecil said, the tiniest of smiles finally settling on his features.

"It would most certainly seem not," Carlos agreed, his smile widening a little, then darkening at recalling the bandages. "I do have to ask, though. Did Father Santiago do that to you?" He gestured towards Cecil’s arm, causing the other to shift his weight so his arm was out of sight.

"It’s for my own good," Cecil murmured, glancing down and swallowing thickly, before looking back to Carlos. "Don’t go to him about it. He’ll simply punish you for seeing me again. It would be best, really, if you did not mention me at all. To anyone."

Carlos scowled for a moment, Cecil’s nervous demeanor making him want to rush off to Father Santiago’s chambers at that very moment and throw his rosary in the man’s face. But, he knew that would do little, so he simply counted to five, and let out a lengthy breath. “I promise,” he vowed, making a quick cross over his heart. It made Cecil smile, so that was really all he could ask.

"You should probably go now," Cecil hummed, blowing out the last candle on the altar, while flashing Carlos a quick grin. "I’ll see you tomorrow? I promise not to stay away so long."

Carlos nodded, reaching out to give Cecil’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, before heading out of the church.

~

The next night Carlos once again took his time cleaning, swirling his broom through the dirt on the church floor from the day of worship. He hadn’t expected Cecil to appear before he was nearly finished, figuring he’d show up just as he was blowing out the candles, as he seemed to favor. So, it came as a great surprise to him to open the door to one side of the confessional booth to find Cecil standing on the other side, grinning like a loon.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Carlos gasped, stumbling back and collapsing onto a bench, clutching at his chest, as his heart felt as though it would beat right through his ribs.

"Shhh! You’re not supposed to take those names in vain," Cecil hissed, glancing around the church, before stepping out of the booth and over to Carlos. "Sorry for startling you. I thought it’d be a fun surprise."

Carlos heaved a few deep breaths, glaring up at Cecil through his bangs as he let his heart calm. “Oh, Yes. A ‘fun surprise’. Sure,” he grumbled, rubbing at his chest, before letting his hands fall to his lap. “How long have you been hiding in the confessional?”

Cecil scuffed his shoeless foot across the polished wood of the floor, glancing around as if nervous, before muttering out a quick, “A while.”

"How long is a while?" Carlos inquired further, arching an eyebrow as he got back to his feet, broom clutched in hand.

"Once I knew the service was over, I snuck down from my room, and hid in the night stairs until I could get down here into the church. Then I waited until there was an opening and made for the confessional. I was in there for maybe…a couple of hours? At best," Cecil offered, a blush quite plainly painted across his cheeks as he smiled sheepishly at Carlos.

"How did no one manage to see you while you were in the stair well? Certainly some of the choir monks had to see you," Carlos asked, leaning a bit on his broom.

"Oh! The Father has them convinced that the roof up there has gone to seed. Haven’t you noticed that they all have rooms in the dormitory building? I’ve got the whole upstairs to myself," Cecil declared, puffing up his chest a bit, as if proud of the fact that he had an entire clergy convinced that he both didn’t exist, and yet had an entire wing of rooms to himself.

Carlos simply eyed him up and down, a dubious look on his face, sighing quietly. “That’s one thing I just don’t get,” he hummed, letting his broom rest against the side of the bench so he could circle Cecil quickly, coming to stand once more in front of the confused looking boy, “Why are you being kept hidden? Why are you being kept secret upstairs, instead of becoming a lay monk, like me? And, especially, why did Father Santiago forbid me from speaking to you? It doesn’t make sense. You seem perfectly friendly to me. If a bit odd, sneaking into the confessional and sitting there for hours.”

Cecil’s blush darkened as he shuffled back and forth minutely, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I told you yesterday that I was going to come earlier. If I hadn’t come down then, I might have gotten caught up in a book and not noticed the time until the sun was down,” he muttered, before glancing sharply up at Carlos. “The Father forbid you from speaking to me?”

Carlos twirled a hand through the air, the other taking up his broom once more as he began to sweep. “Well, yes. He told me, essentially, to keep my head down and to ignore you if I ever saw you again. Which, like I said, I don’t understand. Why keep you a secret? It’s not like we don’t take in orphans all the time.”

"You misunderstand," Cecil murmured, his voice sounding grim, causing Carlos to stop in his sweeping to look back up. "I’m not an orphan, Carlos. My father, he’s still out there. He wants me. He’s been trying to get me back for some time. But the Father doesn’t want to give me up to him. That’s why I’m kept a secret."

Carlos frowned, curling his fingers tightly around the broom. “But…That still doesn’t make sense. Telling the rest of the clergy could only help. We could all look out for you, and keep an eye out for your father, so he couldn’t get to you, if he’s really that bad.”

Cecil chuckled darkly, his fingers moving to brush over the bandages that still wound around his arm. “Oh, Carlos. If only you knew. Truly, it is better if no one else knows I’m here. Actually, it makes sense that the Father told you not to speak to me. I’m putting you in danger, even now. I-I should go,” Cecil muttered, turning on his heel to leave.

Carlos gasped, his broom hitting the floor in a clatter as he shot forward, his hand wrapping around Cecil’s upper arm. “No, please,” he pleaded, releasing Cecil’s arm once the other had stopped. “You’re the first person I’ve met in this place that hasn’t called me ‘young Santos’, or told me I need to brush up on my prayers. You didn’t tell me to go do hail mary’s with my rosary when I cursed. You’re also one of the only people here that isn’t nearly twice my age,” he chuckled quietly, tugging at the sash around his waist. “I don’t understand why you, or Father Santiago are afraid of your father, or why you can only come out at night, when no one else is around. And I can stop asking questions, if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s-it’s actually the reason I’m here, to tell truth. My mother didn’t like all of my questions and sent me here. B-but, regardless, I would still like to get to know you! Perhaps just, spend some time with you. I just-I miss getting to just be myself. And I seem to be able to do that around you.”

Cecil slowly turned to face Carlos, a look of both surprise and embarrassment mingled on his face. “Your name is Santos?” he asked, a slow, lopsided grin forming on his lips.

"Yes?" Carlos answered, arching a concerned eyebrow, as Cecil seemed to let everything he said past his name go in one ear and out the other.

Cecil simply giggled, though, picking at the hem of his tunic. “Ah, sorry. It’s just amusing to me. That your last name is ‘Saint’, and yet you obviously dislike it here.”

Carlos stared at Cecil openly for a good long minute, before letting out a derisive snort, a quiet chuckle following. “Yes, well. One tends to learn to dislike things that are thrust upon them repetitively, without consent.”

"Ah," Cecil hummed, nodding a bit as he shuffled a bit closer to Carlos. "I am sorry, for-for all of this, really. You can ask any questions you wish. I trust you would not go off to Father Santiago, after he told you not to speak to me. And I doubt any of the other monks would even believe I exist, if you told them. No, you are free to your curiosity, Carlos. I’m sorry if I made you think that, for a moment, you would have to be anyone but yourself around me. In return, of course, I do expect the same courtesy. You have peeked my curiosity," he said with a grin, brushing hair behind his ear as he did. "I should give you plenty of warning though," he added, a hint of darkness to his tone, "Spending time with me, it could put you in danger."

Carlos scoffed, waving a dismissive hand through the air as he scooped his broom back up from the floor. “I’m not afraid of Father Santiago. The worst he could do is make me go to confessional, and say Hail Mary’s,” he stated, continuing on with his chores as he spoke.

Cecil watched Carlos sweep the debris out into the cloister, idly chewing on his lip, before finally speaking up again. “Carlos…You know the Father could do much worse to you than that.”

After putting the broom away and moving back towards the altar to begin blowing out candles, Carlos let out a quiet breath, fiddling with a tassel attached to the cloth covering the altar. “I’m aware,” he murmured, casting a quick glance to Cecil’s still bandaged arm, “But I am not hidden away, like you are. The other monks would find out, and Father Santiago would surely be punished for his sins.”

Cecil snorted, shaking his head as he lifted his hand to cup Carlos’ cheek gently. “He would not hesitate to claim you a heretic, and regale the others with tales of how he’d caught you worshiping a false god. You know as well as I that you would be found guilty, and his word would always be held higher than your own. You are putting yourself in danger speaking to me, even now, Carlos. Is speaking your mind really worth the endangerment of your life?”

Carlos swallowed thickly, hesitating a moment, before covering Cecil’s hand with one of his own. “If I cannot speak my piece, and be true to myself, what is the point of living? I would rather get to know you, and be myself, even for a small amount of time, than go about the rest of my life pretending to be a pious monk. I am more than glad to risk these dangers, if it means that I can do, and be more, than what my mother expects of me.”

Cecil chuckled quietly, the sound almost sad in its resonance. “Then so be it. But, for now, dear Carlos, I bid you good night. I shall see you again tomorrow night. I’m rather tired, now,” he murmured, letting his hand slip from beneath Carlos’.

Carlos let his own hand drop, nodding a little as he moved to finally blow out the candles. “Good night.”

~

The days flowed by as such. Carlos would take his time cleaning the church proper, waiting for Cecil to appear from the night stairs, and they would share words until the stars had come out and Carlos could stay out no longer without raising some suspicion. That is, until Carlos came to the sudden realization that his room was on the bottom floor of the dormitories, and it would be rather easy for him to simply climb out of his window and return to the church without anyone being the wiser.

Carlos quietly crept through the cloister, sticking to the shadows for fear that perhaps any of the other monks were up and about as well. He had paid so little attention to any of his fellow clergymen in the time he’d been at the abbey that he had no grasp of any nightly habits any of the other monks might hold. Whether they might sneak down to the kitchens for a late night snack, or perhaps even venture out to the reredorter to relieve themselves at odd hours.

He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he finally reached the church and shut the old wooden door behind him as softly as it would allow. He stood in the darkness of the chapel for a long moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room. Very little light managed to filter through the tall windows set into the walls, and that which did tended to be tinted with colour from the stain of the glass, causing odd shadows to swirl across the floor. He swallowed thickly, quickly reminding himself that spirits were far-fetched, and that he’d spent many long hours in the church. There was nothing to be afraid of in the dark.

Slowly, carefully, he began to pick his way through the church, winding his way around the benches as he moved towards the night stairs, which he knew lead up to Cecil’s extensive rooms. He cringed when his foot fell upon the first stair and let out an irritated squeak at his weight. How could Cecil sneak down into the church so silently every night, when the stairs so obviously detested being used? He huffed out a breath, before selecting his next step more carefully, smiling contentedly to himself when no noise was produced. He continued his way up as such, mindfully sliding his foot over the steps, before letting his weight rest on a spot that appeared to be more stable than the rest.

He realized, though, that once he reached the top of the stairs, he had no idea where Cecil actually went once he’d gone to bed. The upper hall of the church, where the choir monks should have had rooms, was instead full of old storage items, dust, and doors that lead to rooms which contained lord only knew what. Carlos scowled lightly, cursing his decision to not bother with bringing a candle. If he had of just snatched the one on his bedside table before climbing out his window, he would have been able to pick his way through the hall more easily.

Instead, he took a steadying breath and slowly began to shuffle down the hall, pausing every time his sandaled toe came into contact with items scattered across the floor. He would carefully move around the object before continuing on, nearly letting out a frustrated shout when he’d realized he’d barely made it to the first door yet, and a fair bit of time had already passed. He held his tongue, though, not knowing if his voice would carry far enough for someone to come looking. Besides, he wanted to catch Cecil off guard, like the other had done so many times to him. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

Finally, after much trial and tribulation, Carlos came upon a door. He let out a pleased breath, slowly shoving at the door, as to make sure it did not creak over much as it swung open. He was pleased to find that, at least, his troubles in the hall were over, as this appeared to be Cecil’s room. There were books scattered on absolutely every surface, along with small wooden toys that looked as though they had been played with to the point of nearly falling apart. On the far side of the room sat Cecil’s bed, pushed against the wall, and a soft glow was cast about the room by several candles, set into a rather rusty looking bronze candelabra that sat upon Cecil’s bedside table. The scene would have made Carlos smile, had it not been for the fact that Cecil was sat on his bed, meticulously rubbing ointment onto the skin that he kept hidden below those bandages that had appeared on his arm weeks ago, along with marks that were scattered across his back, obviously from times previous.

"Cecil!" Carlos bit his tongue after his outburst, suddenly wishing he had kept his mouth shut at the startled, frightened look that passed over Cecil’s face as he dropped his jar of ointment onto the floor.

"Wh-who?" Cecil gasped, yanking a blanket up towards his chest, before he fully realized who was standing in his doorway. His shoulders slumped slightly, though instead of relaxing entirely at the presence of his friend, he yanked the blankets more fully over his form. "Carlos? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you," Carlos murmured, stepping fully into the room and venturing towards Cecil’s bed. He stooped to pick up the fallen jar, inspecting it and letting out a breath when he noted that the delicate ceramic had little more than a chip out of it near the top, and very little of the contents had spilled onto the floor. "I am sorry for startling you."

"It’s fine," Cecil whispered, reaching out to snatch the jar from Carlos with his unmarked hand, tucking it gingerly back into the folds of his blanket. "I just wasn’t expecting you to come up here. I thought you would be in bed by now."

Carlos shrugged, warily sitting on the edge of Cecil’s bed, noting the way the other subtly shifted away from him. He couldn’t quite place why, but it made his chest ache. “I was. But, then I realized I could climb out my window and come back without anyone being the wiser. So, we could spend more time together,” he offered, picking absently at the edge of his sleeve. “Though, uhm, if you wish me to leave, I will bid you good night,” he added, rising back up from the edge of the bed. He paused as hesitant fingers curled into his robes.

"No," Cecil whispered, his gaze fixed on the floor when Carlos turned to look at him. "I apologize. It’s just…I didn’t want you to see," he trailed off, letting his fingers slip from Carlos’ robes. "The Father, he has told me before that most people, if they were to see them, they would think poorly of me. And, I did not wish for you to think so.

Carlos let his brows furrow as he moved to sit back down next to Cecil, reaching out to carefully wrap the other’s unmarked hand in both of his own. “I could never think poorly of you. Not after all the time we have spent together! You are my friend, Cecil. My best friend, in fact. There is very little that could make me think poorly of you.”

Cecil visibly swallowed, peering up at Carlos from his slightly hunch position. He seemed to have a short mental debate with himself before he slowly sat up and let his blanket slide away from his shoulders. Swirling around from the top of his shoulders, Carlos could see sigils and words in a language he could not read etched right into Cecil’s skin. Some appeared to be scars left from deep cuts, while others appeared to be burned. They curled and swirled their way down one of Cecil’s arms, the one he always kept covered, and appeared to go down and cover most of Cecil’s back. One lone symbol stood out prominently on Cecil’s chest, as well.

"Cecil," Carlos whispered, reaching out a shaking hand towards the scars, only to jerk back as Cecil yanked the blanket back up over his shoulders.

"I told you that you would think poorly of me," Cecil murmured, turning bodily away from Carlos, an obvious look of sadness and disappointment on his face.

"I do not think poorly of you," Carlos couldn’t help but snap, his anger at Father Santiago for putting such thoughts into Cecil’s head, after inflicting such damage on the other, rearing its ugly head. "I would never-Not over something like this! None of those are your fault. Father Santiago is a horrible monster for doing this to you," he hissed vehemently.

Cecil startled, looking back at Carlos with an expression of shock. Carlos took a shuddering breath to calm himself, before leveling Cecil with a look of determination. “You are my best, and only friend, Cecil. I’m simply angry that these things have happened to you. They only bother me, to know that you have been treated so horribly.”

Cecil let a tiny smile of hope settle on his face, turning back once more as he allowed the blanket to fall back down to the bed. “They weren’t so bad,” he murmured after a beat, picking his jar of ointment up from where it had been forgotten next to his knee. “This one,” he hummed, motioning to the symbol over his heart, “I don’t even remember getting it. I’ve never felt pain from it, though, so I can only assume I’ve had it for a very long time.”

Carlos nodded a little, idly biting at his lower lip, before suddenly blurting, “Can I touch them?”

Cecil blinked, staring at Carlos for a moment, before a quiet laugh escaped him and he nodded, motioning for Carlos to touch to his heart’s content. “Sure. They don’t bother me, much. Sometimes I suffer from phantom aches, so the Father gave me this ointment. Ah,” Cecil looked mildly bashful for a moment, “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind helping me with my back? I would appreciate it.” He offered the jar to Carlos, a hopeful smile on his face.

There was really very little Carlos could do but agree, taking the jar from Cecil and shifting around on the bed so he was sat behind the other. “How long have you been receiving these?” he asked as he gently applied the ointment to some of the thicker, more angry looking lines swirling over Cecil’s spine.

"Hmmm? Oh, quite a long time," Cecil hummed, rolling his shoulder blades in contentment as Carlos applied the ointment. It was a luxury to him, to have anyone other than the Father bestow touch upon him, let alone touches as sweet and tender as Carlos’. "Like I said, I think I’ve had the one on my chest since forever. The rest have come over time. Usually the Father only gives them to me after I’ve done something especially against his rules. Mmm, I imagine if he were to ever discover that you came up here, I would certainly get a load of new ones to add to my collection."

This gave Carlos pause as a realization hit him square in the gut. “That was why Father Santiago marked your arm, isn’t it?”

Cecil frowned when Carlos’ ministrations stopped, turning his head to peer at the monk over his shoulder. “Ah. Well. He didn’t say that was specifically why, but I got the idea that, yes, that was perhaps the reason.”

"Oh, Cecil," Carlos let his hands drop from the other’s back, gaze flickering over the remnants of violent acts on Cecil’s skin. "I am so sorry."

Cecil let out a breath, turning slightly to pluck the ointment jar from Carlos’ slack hands, setting it neatly on his bed side table, before practically clamoring right into Carlos’ lap. “You do realize that the Father would have eventually worked his way to my arm. It was an inevitability. You shouldn’t worry, Carlos,” he hummed, offering Carlos a soft smile as he began to pet the monks’ hair. “I think that these marks,” he indicated his arm, “are well worth the time I’ve been able to spend with you. I’ve never been able to interact with anyone so freely before. As you said shortly after we first met, about finding there being no point in living if you cannot be yourself? I do not mind these physical wounds, if it means I get to do the same.”

Carlos sighed quietly, a wobbly smile finally curling the corners of his lips. “I suppose you have a point.”

"I do!" Cecil chirped, grinning widely. "However, I do think it is time for you to go, Carlos," he hummed, giving the monks hair one final pet, before sliding off his lap. "You have early morning prayers to get to, and I wouldn’t want to be the cause of you falling asleep in the middle, and winding up in the confessional doing Hail Mary’s."

Carlos chuckled, ruffling Cecil’s hair playfully as he hoisted himself up and off the other’s bed. “All right, all right. I’ll see if I can return again tomorrow night, after lights out. Does that sound good?”

"Very good," Cecil hummed, tugging his blanket up around his shoulders, and offering up a sleepy smile as Carlos wandered back out of his room.

~

Days turned into weeks as time slowly slipped by as Carlos and Cecil spent more and more time together. Often times, Carlos would discover that the sky was beginning to lighten just outside Cecil’s window before he would scramble down to the church, pretending to those who slowly began to filter inside that he’d simply woken up early, as opposed to having been awake all night. On the days following such nights, Carlos would often hide away in the kitchen pantry, dozing off in between peeling potatoes, to try and regain some sleep. More often than not, Cecil would demand he actually spend the night in his own room, to get some proper rest, both for fear of them being caught, and Carlos’ physical health.

The two grew close. Carlos shared with Cecil how his father had died during a rather terrible storm while he’d been out sailing on a merchant ship, and how his mother had turned so fully and forcefully to religion, it often scared him. He told the other of how his mother and father had met when his mother’s family had moved to Portugal and his father’s family had been there to help them settle in. How his father had taught him how to tell which way the wind would push a ship, and how to navigate by the stars. He’d also shared how, when he’d grown older, and had begun to study to become a scholar, his mother had scorned him, and sent him back to Spain, telling him how to question god was to damn his immortal soul.

In turn, Cecil shared how he’d been born right in that very church. How he’d never known either of his parents, since knowledge of his father was carefully guarded against by Father Santiago, and his mother had died giving birth to him. How Father Santiago had taken care of him, and had always been rather kind to him, aside from when he’d taken knives or branding irons to his skin. And how he’d gathered every book he could to read to find out what the symbols carved into his skin meant. He’d only managed to discover the meaning of the one on his chest, recalling to Carlos rather fearfully of how it was a seal against demons.

"But, you’re no demon," Carlos murmured, wrapping an arm around Cecil as they lounged in one of the spare, converted dorm rooms. The roof had actually fallen in on part of the room, leaving a rather nice view of the night sky above.

"But, that’s the frightening thing," Cecil whispered, shivering as a light wind blew in from the gap in the roof. He tucked himself closer to Carlos’ shoulder, fixing the blanket he’d dragged along with them closer around their bodies. "The seal would keep my form in check. Y-you could be sitting here right now with a demon, and you’d never know." Cecil swallowed thickly, ducking his head a little. "Perhaps your mother sent you away, only to have you damn your immortal soul under the guise of a friendship, born through the church."

Carlos snorted quietly, stroking his fingers absently through Cecil’s hair. “I highly doubt that,” he hummed, shifting to push Cecil away so he could look the other in the face. “It is true that, perhaps, the seal would hide your true form, but it would not be able to keep in line the tendency of a demon, would it? You have been nothing but sincere and kind to me. A demon would have tried to steal my soul away by now. Don’t you think?”

Cecil smiled softly at Carlos, brushing hair behind his ear bashfully. “I suppose,” he murmured, moving to lean back against Carlos’ side. He looked back to the glimmering stars overhead, smiling as he spotted a cluster of stars they had yet to name. “So, what are those stars over there called?”

Carlos chuckled and continued to tell Cecil about the stars, as he had been doing before their conversation had digressed into painful pasts. Soon enough, the two had dozed off, curled together under the thin blanket, warmed by the others company.

Carlos was the first one to wake with a start, snorting loudly as he sat up, teeth chattering from the sudden chill as the blanket fell from his shoulders. He glanced around, his heart skipping up into his throat for a moment as he noticed the streaks of pink that had begun to make their way across the sky. He groaned, knowing that the day to follow would be another where he’d have to try and catch sleep where he could, and do his best to avoid looking directly at any of the other monks, should they ask about the dark circles under his eyes. He sighed and shifted, gently shaking Cecil’s shoulder.

"Cecil," he called quietly, smiling at the way Cecil’s face scrunched up in sleep, and he batted lightly at Carlos’ hand. "Cecil, wake up. It’s nearly dawn. I need to go down to the church."

Cecil groaned as he rolled onto his back and stretched his arms over his head, smacking his lips together as he groggily blinked up at Carlos. “Already? It feels like you’ve barely been here at all,” he grumbled, shoving himself up onto his elbows.

Carlos chuckled, petting Cecil’s hair, his soft smile turning into a smirk at the way Cecil leaned into his touch, like his kitten back in Portugal had, whenever he’d pet it. “The sun is beginning to rise, Cecil. If I don’t head down now, I’ll have to try and scale the church wall from the window and come around from outside,” he said with a light laugh, sitting back as Cecil pushed himself up fully.

"All right, all right," Cecil sighed, reaching up with a smile to wind his fingers through Carlos’ hair. "I’ll see you again tonight? Perhaps you can tell me more stories about Portugal?" he inquired, scratching his fingers along Carlos’ scalp, the way he knew the monk enjoyed.

"Hmm," Carlos practically purred, before gently shoving Cecil’s hand away with a laugh. "Yes. I’ll tell you more about Portugal tonight, if you’d like."

"I would like. Very much," Cecil chirped, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on Carlos’ cheek bone, just below his eye. He drew back when he realized how much of a violation of personal space that had been, covering his mouth with a hand, looking contrite. "I’m so sorry, Carlos," he hastened to say, taking in the startled look on Carlos’ face, "Forgive me."

Carlos sat, stunned, to say the least, for a long moment, watching as Cecil began to fret, pushing the blanket away and apologizing profusely. Finally, he smiled and caught Cecil’s hand, enjoying the surprised squeak that escaped Cecil’s lips at the movement. He drew Cecil’s caught hand to his lips and pressed a fleeting kiss there, before leaning in towards the other, quite pleased by the flush of pink across Cecil’s cheeks at his actions. “Shh. No need to apologize,” he hummed, his lips hovering just before Cecil’s.

They sprung apart before he could press their lips together, however, when loud footsteps could be heard making their way from the stair well, down the hall.

"Hide!" Cecil hissed, shoving at Carlos as he scrambled to his feet, hurrying towards the open door of the room.

Carlos, in turn, shoved himself to his feet and made for the fallen debris of the roof, yanking the hood of his robes over his head as he ducked and squeezed himself into the space between a fallen beam and the wall, crouching down and hoping there was enough wood and stone piled there to hide him from view.

"Father," he heard Cecil reply to a murmur from down the hall. Obviously Father Santiago had been calling for him. "Sorry, Father. I was star gazing last night, and fell asleep when I lost track of time."

Carlos bit his lip as a bit of debris he’d been leaning on shifted and yanked on the cord of his rosary, effectively pinning him under the fallen beam. He hissed under his breath as he tried to wriggle it free with minimal movement, not wanting to alert Father Santiago that he was up there.

"You should know better, Cecil," he heard Father Santiago’s distinct voice respond from very nearby, causing him to stop his struggles. "You could catch cold, and then where would we be? You know I cannot fetch medicine for you, without someone else in the clergy falling ill as well. It would look suspicious if I simply went to the apothecary for medicine no one needs, wouldn’t it?"

"Of course, Father. My apologies," Cecil hurried to reply, a creak in the floor boards telling Carlos that he was trying to usher Father Santiago back towards his room to give Carlos time to escape, if he could.

"Not at all, Cecil. Come, now. I brought you up some porridge. Then I must go find young brother Santos. It would appear that he failed to blow out the candles in the church last night, and we now have several rather useless piles of wax decorating the altar this morning," Father Santiago said, as their voices began to move down the hallway.

Carlos let out a sigh of relief, going back to trying to free his rosary, this time with a bit more vigor, as there was no longer any immediate danger of his movements being noticed. He let a cheer of triumph out under his breath once he’d managed to wriggle it free, though it was short lived as the two pieces of debris it had been lodged between shifted. He gasped as one fell, emanating a loud thump as it hit the floor. He tried to scramble out of his hiding spot, to no avail, as the beam above him began to slide from lack of support, and pinned him below the mess. He wheezed as he felt his chest being crushed, tears welling in his eyes as he heard the footsteps of Father Santiago and Cecil returning.

"Now, now, Cecil. It is better that I check it now, for fear of any of the debris striking the floor the wrong way, and falling into the church below," Father Santiago insisted, striding into the room with purpose, Cecil hot on his heels with a look of dismay on his face.

"Yes, that is true, I suppose, but I’m sure it was just some of the wood shifting! I did move a bit of it last night so I could have a better view of the sky. I’m sure it’s fine," Cecil insisted, his gaze flicking to where he’d seen Carlos scramble, as Father Santiago stepped closer to the pile.

Carlos wheezed quietly, turning his head minutely so his hood covered most of his face. Even if he was being crushed to death, he still didn’t want to alert the Father of his whereabouts.

Unfortunately, Cecil did not seem to share his sentiments, as Carlos could hear him gasp quietly when he’d been spotted, though it was enough to alert Father Santiago.

"What is it, Cecil? Have you noticed-" the Father paused when he noticed Carlos’ hood, sticking out from below the beam. Carlos could hear a quiet yelp of pain emanate from Cecil, before the beam above Carlos was being lifted, and Father Santiago rather unceremoniously jarred the younger monk in the ribs with the toe of his shoe.

"Get up!" the Father snapped, dropping the beam once Carlos had squirmed his way out from beneath it. He scowled at the two of them, Carlos looking up to spy Cecil cradling his cheek in the palm of his hand. Punishment, apparently, for Carlos’ presence.

"Brother Santos," the Father all but growled, snatching Carlos by the arm, "I do believe I told you months ago not to associate with Cecil, did I not? Was my speech not clear enough for you?" Father Santiago punctuated his point by squeezing Carlos’ arm hard enough that he was sure there would be a good sized bruise left behind.

"I-it was crystal," Carlos gasped, trying to pull away from the Father, only to have his arm gripped tighter, making him hiss in pain.

"Please," Cecil suddenly piped up, stepping forward from where he’d backed himself up against a wall, "Please, Father! It was my fault! I was the one who kept going to see Carlos." He looked frightened, but determined, as his gaze flicked from the Father to Carlos’ face.

"Oh? And did you also force him to come up here and leave the church unattended? Did you make him miss curfew, and break the abbey’s rules of conduct? Hmm?" the Father spat, yanking Carlos’ hood from his head, making the young monk wince.

"I-Well, no," Cecil stammered, wringing his hands together in front of himself, "But, if I hadn’t gone to see him in the first place, then he wouldn’t have come up here to begin with!" He jumped back when Father Santiago all but threw Carlos at his feet.

"Are you taking responsibility for him then, Cecil?" Father Santiago snapped, folding his arms over his chest while Cecil scrambled to help Carlos back to his feet.

Cecil swallowed thickly, shakily supporting a wheezing Carlos as he stared fearfully up at the Father. “I-I suppose,” he murmured, squeaking when Father Santiago snorted.

"Excellent. Then you get to be the one who distributes his punishment," the Father snarled, scowling at the two of them. "I will be back up here after I meet with the Dean. I should not be long." He turned on his heel and headed for the door, turning at the last moment to peer over his shoulder at Cecil. "Make sure you eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

Once the Father was out the door and down the hall, they both collapsed onto the floor in a heap, Carlos shivering minutely in Cecil’s hold.

"You need to run," Cecil suddenly said, shoving at Carlos to make him get back up. "You need to get out of here, before he comes back."

"What?!" Carlos gasped, his chest still aching slightly from being compressed under the beam. He shook his head, clutching at his sore arm. "No! I’m not going to leave you here with him! God only knows what he’ll do to you!"

"God only knows what he’ll make me do to you!” Cecil retorted, burying his fingers in Carlos’ hair as he brought their foreheads together, tears already rolling down his cheeks. “I knew something bad like this would happen if we kept seeing each other, Carlos. And now that we’ve spent so much time together, I don’t think I can bare witness to it. Please! Please, run away. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. There is little that Father Santiago could do to me at this point. So, please. I cannot bare to see you hurt because of me.”

"I can’t leave you. Not like this. I won’t," Carlos insisted, sagging into Cecil’s touch. He shivered as a cold wind blew in from the open roof, leaning up to press their lips together, finishing their interrupted moment. "You’ve stolen my heart away, Cecil," he murmured once they’d parted, "I cannot bare to leave it behind."

Cecil gasped quietly as their lips parted, a surprised but pleased look on his face. It was short lived, as it quickly melted into misery as his tears began to flow anew. “All the more reason you should,” he whimpered, stroking his fingers gently over Carlos’ cheek. “I’m no good for you, Carlos. Please, trust me, and take this opportunity to leave. Leave this place, and don’t ever look back. Become a scholar; learn all there is to know about the world! I can do nothing but hold you back.”

Carlos shook his head, dislodging Cecil’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again with a snap of his teeth as something landed with a dull thump next to them on the floor. He frowned lightly, turning to find a small whip lying on the floor. Cecil startled slightly, curling his arms around Carlos’ shoulders protectively, as Father Santiago cleared his throat from the doorway.

"Did you think I couldn’t walk quietly?" he hissed, nodding towards the whip next to Cecil’s knee. "I think about fifty lashes should do the trick nicely, Cecil."

Carlos swallowed thickly, turning his gaze to Cecil, who simply stared down at the weapon with wide eyes. “Cecil,” Carlos whispered, shaking the other slightly, “It’ll be fine.”

Cecil shook his head, turning watery eyes to Carlos. “That many lashes will surely tear the skin from bone. I cannot.”

"Cecil," Father Santiago’s voice was growing agitated.

"Just do it. I’ll be fine."

"I can’t hurt you!"

"Cecil!"

"Don’t worry about me!"

"How can I not?"

"CECIL!"

"Please!"

"NO!" Cecil finally snapped, scrambling to his feet and dragging a surprised Carlos along with him. "I will not hurt him!" He clung to Carlos as though his life depended on it, staring the Father down with a red rimmed, but determined gaze. "He means the world to me, and you will not make me hurt him. If I do, that makes me no better than the creatures you so righteously claim me to be," he stated, half turning so Carlos was partially blocked by his own body.

Father Santiago looked less than pleased by this revelation, his visage growing dark. He stormed across the room, snatching the whip up from the floor as he went, grabbing Carlos by the hair and yanking him backwards and away from Cecil without preamble as he spoke, ignoring the cry of pain that emanated from Carlos. “Fine! If you will not do it, then I shall take responsibility for this boy’s poor soul, which you so horribly tainted. And you know it to be true, you reprehensible creature. You know you seduced him and tricked him into spending time with you. You filled his soul with rotting filth, and you’re leaving me to deal with the consequences.” He threw Carlos to the floor, brandishing the whip in hand as Cecil stood frozen in horror.

"This is your doing!" Father Santiago spat, bringing the whip down upon Carlos’ back before he could even get his bearings from the floor, tearing through his robes. The next crack of the whip brought blood, and Cecil’s sudden shout of anguish.

Before Father Santiago could lay the third blow upon Carlos, Cecil’s hand was around his wrist, and the boy was shoving him forcefully away. There was a sickening crunch of bone as the Father fell to his knees, Cecil standing about him even as the older man tried fruitlessly to free his wrist from Cecil’s grip.

"You cannot hurt him," Cecil’s growled, his voice sounding as though it was coming from nowhere, and yet everywhere, all at once. It reverberated through Carlos’ bones, making him quake.

Cecil gasped after a moment, stepping back from the Father, allowing the man to cradle his broken wrist to his chest. He shook his head, whimpering into his hands as Carlos struggled to his feet. Carlos hiccupped quietly in pain, but pushed it aside as he hurried over to Cecil, snagging his blanket from the floor and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Come," Carlos all but commanded, grabbing Cecil’s hand and dragging him along, out the door, down the hall, and down into the church, Cecil putting up no struggle as he stumbled along behind. They ignored the calls from the monks now milling about the church, Carlos dodging around those that tried to step into their path. He ducked around one last monk who tried to block their way through the doors out to the cloister, before breaking out into a dead run, his sandals making angry slapping noises as they beat against the stone paths.

He didn’t let them stop until they were outside the abbey walls, hidden in a thicket of trees, and their lungs burned with the need for air.

"I lied," were the first words spoken out of Cecil’s mouth, once there was enough oxygen in their lungs to function.

"What?" Carlos panted, reaching behind himself to touch his back, his fingers coming away bloody.

Cecil whimpered, stepping forward to cup Carlos’ hand between his own, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I lied about knowing nothing about my father,” he whispered, letting Carlos’ hand slip from between his fingers.

"What does that have to do with right now?" Carlos groaned, moving to sit underneath a tree, while wiping sweaty hair from his brow.

"It has everything to do with now!" Cecil snapped, quickly clapping his hands over his mouth and glancing around worriedly, not relaxing until nothing but the woodland creatures going about their daily business appeared. "My father, Carlos. The one who has been searching for me, most likely since I was born? The Father told me that the abbey would protect me from him. That something within the abbey walls kept him away."

Carlos frowned, looking up at Cecil through his bangs. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

Cecil fell to his knees in front of Carlos, looking about fretfully, biting at his lower lip. “I will tell you something. And Carlos, my Carlos, you must believe me. You simply must. I’m not lying. I would not lie to you. Not over something like this.”

The look of utter fear on Cecil’s face quieted any voice of skepticism Carlos may have had, simply nodding at the other to continue.

Cecil took a steadying breath, clutching his hands tightly together in front of him. “The Father told me that the night that my mother went to the abbey, she was not looking for solace, or a safe place to stay while pregnant. She wanted to be rid of me. She told the priest that greeted her that evil men had come, and taken her in the night, and a great beast of darkness had planted its seed in her belly. The priest thought her mad, and had her locked away in a room for her own safety through her pregnancy, so she would not harm herself, or her unborn babe. After all, every life is sacred in the eyes of the lord, right? So, he made sure her pregnancy went well, and it seemed to, according to her attending nurse. Aside from her cursing their lives, of course. The night I was born, my mother died. She-” Cecil paused for a moment, sucking a few deep breaths into his lungs, obviously fending off tears, “She did not die in child birth, as I told you before. She took her own life with one of the doctors tools, the moment they took their eyes off of her to tend to me. Apparently she took a surgical tool from his kit next to her bed, and killed herself, rather than look upon me for even a moment.” Carlos shifted to wrap Cecil in a one armed hug as the other cried quietly, gathering himself to continue. “My father came not long after that. And, it turned out that my mother was right. Shadows formed where there should have been light in the abbey, and strange men came knocking on the doors, asking about a baby. It took several of the priests in the abbey reciting from the bible to drive them away. All but the Father left not long after, claiming that the abbey was cursed as long as I was there. The Father looked after me, doing something to the walls of the abbey to keep those men and my father away. I-I think he placed the seal on my chest when I was small as well, in hopes that wh-whatever I truly am never comes to the surface.”

Carlos sat in stunned silence, letting Cecil’s words slowly sink in. There was little he could say, in hindsight, given their situation. “I still don’t think you’re a demon,” he finally settled on, giving Cecil’s shoulders a light squeeze when the other tilted his head up with a look of utter astonishment on his face. “I mean it, Cecil. The wonder I’ve seen on your face while looking up into the night sky, or the rapture that flashes across your face when you finish a book. No demon could possibly have such pure joy in their lives.” He smiled as Cecil buried his face into his robes, while Carlos rubbed comforting circles on his back.

"Come, now," Carlos finally murmured, pushing Cecil gently away from his chest, "We really should be going. I have no doubt that by now Father Santiago has some monks out looking for us. And after our daring escape, I’d rather not have to go right back." He struggled to his feet, Cecil hurrying to help steady him.

"Even though we will be unsafe out here?" Cecil murmured, looking quickly over Carlos’ back to discover that the open wound on his back had stopped bleeding for the most part.

"We wouldn’t be safe back at the abbey, either," Carlos pointed out, taking Cecil’s hand in his own, and leading them through the trees. "Besides. It’s been, what? Seventeen years? Perhaps those men that came looking for you as a babe have given up on finding you."

"Perhaps," Cecil murmured, though something in his gut told him that would not be the case.

~

Cecil whimpered, dragging Carlos down to the ground as he fell to his knees, before promptly keeling over into a patch of grass along the side of the road.

"Cecil," Carlos sighed, crawling to sit next to the other boy, stroking his fingers carefully through Cecil’s hair. "Come on. I know we’ve been walking for a while, but we can’t stop here. We need to find shelter for the night."

"A while?" Cecil groaned, flinging his arm up over his eyes, "We’ve been walking for hours! The sun is going to set soon, Carlos! And my feet hurt."

Carlos cooed at the other boy, shifting to pull Cecil’s battered feet into his lap. He gingerly rubbed at the bruised and dirt covered appendages, wincing a little as he carefully extracted a small stone that had dug into the flesh on the bottom of Cecil’s foot. In their rush to leave the abbey, Carlos had paid little thought to the fact that he’d never even seen Cecil wear shoes. He supposed there hadn’t been much point in it, since Cecil never ventured further than the small library on the abbey grounds, and the areas that didn’t have neat stone paths were covered in soft grass. But now that they were walking through bramble patches, and over stony roads, he wished Cecil had worn them. The only saving grace was the fact that Cecil’s feet were decently calloused from the lack of foot wear.

"Well," Carlos finally hummed after rubbing Cecil’s feet for a few minutes, wiggling the others toes to elicit a quiet giggle from the other, "Why don’t we just walk until we come across the next functional building? Just so we have somewhere to sleep. And then, tomorrow, we can continue on looking for somewhere with proper lodgings. Sound good?"

In response, Cecil simply hummed in contentment, wriggling his feet in Carlos’ lap.

~

When they came across the abandoned barn not far from where they had stopped on the road, Carlos thought for a moment that it may have been a blessing, sent to them from some celestial being looking down upon them, and giving them a small reprieve. It was a short lived thought, as he realized that if what Cecil had said was true before, and that he was the offspring of some dark hell monster, it was highly unlikely that a celestial being would take even an ounce of pity on them. So, he quickly chalked it up to more simple dumb luck, and let it be at that.

Cecil had given a triumphant little cheer when they’d wandered into the field the barn was located in, scoffing at how Carlos noted that part of the roof had fallen in. He’d pointed out that so had part of the churches roof, and nobody was bothered by that. At that, Carlos conceded that the barn was better than nothing, and the two set about making themselves comfortable for the night; Cecil happily piling up musty straw and bits of torn fabric for a bed, while Carlos poked around the derelict building for any supplies that might aid them in their journey. They both fell into a fitful sleep once the sun was long set, and they’d laid looking up at familiar constellations.

~

Carlos woke with a start when there was sudden movement and a startled cry next to him, sitting up and blinking at the world groggily. He frowned as his vision swirled with dark shadows, which slowly formed into the shape of people. People who had a struggling Cecil in their arms, trying desperately to get away.

"Carlos!" Cecil shouted when he’d managed to spit a wad of material out of his mouth, only to let out an indignant grunt as a length of rope was tied around his head to gag him instead.

"Hush now," one of the people hissed, turning on Carlos, whose brain was still just on this side of sleep addled and not able to fully register what exactly was going on. The person nodded to another, and Carlos found himself being dragged up and onto his feet, and a gag shoved into his mouth. He squirmed, kicking out and managing to nail his captor in the shin, before he was punched in the stomach and doubled over in pain.

"Bring them outside," the apparent ring leader snapped, marching out the sagging barn doors and into the bright moonlight of the night.

Cecil growled around his gag at the people shoving him outside, while Carlos simply stumbled along, wheezing slightly from the blow to his gut. Once outside, they were both unceremoniously pushed to their knees, forced to look up at the ring leader of their captors. It was a woman, older than Carlos and Cecil by a fair few years, grinning maliciously down at them. She nodded at someone behind the two boys on the ground, and they quickly found their wrists being bound behind their backs.

"Hello, my dears," the woman all but purred, her voice sweet and sultry, but with a hint of underlying venom in her tone. It made Carlos’ skin crawl. "How fortuitous, on this night of the full Hunters Moon, that we have found you. Our young prince." She directed her smile to Cecil, whose expression immediately morphed from angry to frightened. "We have been hoping for so very long that you would one day venture out of your self-imposed prison. That pesky priest has been a thorn in our sides far too long. We are pleased to see he finally got to you as well."

Cecil squirmed, yanking at his bonds, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps around the rope in his mouth as the woman slowly stepped forward, brandishing a polished silver dagger in her hand. “Please,” he whimpered when she untied the rope keeping him gagged. A quiet ‘tsk’ing noise was his only reply as she took the dagger to his tunic, the blade easily cutting through his shirt, bringing his chest into view.

"They’ve tamed you, I see," she hummed, tracing her fingers over the intricate seal on Cecil’s chest, and ignoring how Cecil tried to flinch away. "Such a pity. Such a disgrace." She turned her gaze on Carlos, tilting her head slightly as she caught sight of the rosary still hanging around his neck. "Is he your handler?" she scoffed, moving towards the monk, causing Carlos to try and move away, only to run into the legs of one of their captors. "Disgusting," she crooned, stooping down next to Carlos, bringing the blade up to trace over his cheek, leaving a fine trail of blood in its wake, "Do you even know what he is? You sicken me, with your righteous beliefs, and your disregard for the true powers in this world." She moved the blade, a snarl on her lips as she shifted to aim it at Carlos’ chest, only pausing when Cecil let out a wail of dissent.

"NO! He’s mine! You cannot hurt him!" he bellowed, tears freely flowing down his cheeks, "He’s mine!"

The woman gave pause, her blade still poised in the air as she let her gaze flicker over Carlos’ appearance. “He’s yours? In what sense?”

"I took him with me from the abbey! I-I," Cecil floundered for a moment, panic obviously keeping him from thinking as straight as he normally would, "I tainted his soul! He belongs to me. I swayed his heart from the path of God, and brought him with me, to serve me! If you kill him, you will be spilling the blood of one of your own!"

The woman snorted quietly, but let her blade drop. “Fine. He is of little consequence in the end to us, anyway. If the little prince wishes to have a toy, then so be it.”

Cecil let out a quiet breath, while Carlos’ entire posture visibly slumped in relief.

"What is of consequence to us, however, is that," she hummed, moving back over to Cecil, letting her fingers dance over the seal on Cecil’s chest once more. "While you were inside the abbey, even if this was removed, you would still retain your control thanks to the wards keeping us out," she murmured, lifting her blade once more, Cecil’s gaze trained worriedly on the glinting metal, "However, out here your true form should be able to flourish. We’ll have to set up the ritual beforehand, of course, since you’ve not grown with your gifts, and cannot possibly know how to control them," she nodded to a few of the men still standing, half hidden in darkness, who began to move about the clearing outside the barn. They began to light candles and draw with chalk on the ground, the woman smiling crookedly all the while. She finally stepped away from Cecil, moving to oversee the men at work, allowing the two boys to move next to each other once more.

Cecil whimpered as he buried his face into Carlos’ chest, the monk resting his chin on the other’s soft hair with a tired sigh.

"I’m so sorry, Carlos," Cecil whispered, wishing that his hands were free so he could run his fingers in comfort through Carlos’ hair, "This is all my fault."

Carlos made a noise of disagreement, nudging Cecil’s forehead with his chin so the other would look up and see the half formed frown on his face. It lost some of its potency due to the drool slowly running down his chin thanks to the gag in his mouth. Cecil simply snorted, nudging his nose against Carlos’.

"I know you don’t think so, but it is. I did know you were still in the church that night, so long ago. I knew you would not be finished yet, but I went down anyway. I waited for you to turn and see me, rather than hide. I wanted someone to know I existed. Someone other than the Father. And, it was so selfish of me, I know, but I wanted you. You looked so beautiful in the light of those candles. I wanted to know you, and spend time with you. I wanted to make you mine. And in that, I damned you."

Carlos shook his head, his voice coming out garbled around the gag in his mouth, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

"No, Carlos," Cecil whispered, a sad laugh escaping him, "If you cry it will sting. You have a cut on your cheek, remember?"

And that simple comment, that was so Cecil, who was always more concerned about Carlos than his own being, was enough to make the monk finally begin to cry, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking into the rope that kept him from speaking. And Cecil was right, his cheek did sting.

"Enough," the woman’s voice cut through the otherwise quiet night air as she appeared next to Cecil. She smirked, reaching down to drag the other to his feet. "My father began this all those many years ago," she said, dragging a struggling Cecil to the middle of an intricate design marked into the ground, "I’m sure, wherever his soul lies, he’s pleased to know that his work is finally going to become complete."

Carlos watched in horror as the woman turned the blade on Cecil, shoving him down so she could cut into the seal on his chest. No one moved as Cecil cried, screaming in pain as the woman dug the silver into his flesh, his blood spattering the ground as she sliced away a chunk of his flesh.

"There," she hummed once the deed was done, stepping back, "Let the ceremony begin!"

Carlos choked around his gag, struggling to get to his feet, his every instinct screaming at him to get to Cecil, who was writhing on the ground, sobbing into the dirt as the people meandering around the clearing began to move. One stopped by Carlos, shoving him back down onto his knees, while the rest formed a circle around Cecil, chanting words that Carlos didn’t understand. As their chanting rose into a crescendo, Cecil screamed, and Carlos watched as his small frame warped, his tunic bulging out before tearing away from his body as tentacles spread from his back. The rope binding Cecil’s wrists broke as he screamed again, bringing clawed hands to cover his face, where Carlos could see more eyes then there should have been blinking between Cecil’s fingers. Carlos forced himself to look away as Cecil’s form continued to warp, the man standing behind him taking a hasty step backwards.

"Yes, yes!" the woman shrieked, her voice carrying over the chanting, "Rise, my Lord! Rise, and bring with you a new era for this world! We have brought for you your key! Your voice in this world! Through him, bring us the darkness we so readily deserve!"

There was a distinct sound of something clattering onto the ground, and Carlos hazarded to peek an eye open to find that the man who had apparently been meant to keep an eye on him had fled, and dropped his dagger in his haste. He quickly shifted, squirming until he could get the handle of the dagger between his fingers and work at the ropes binding his wrists. It took too many precious moments for Carlos to free himself, and he knew that by the sound of screams coming not from Cecil, but those who had gathered in the clearing. They were running as the moon began to darken, and shadows crept out from the circle where Cecil was. Carlos still dared not look too closely, for fear of being unable to take how Cecil appeared. He knew well the stories of those who had looked upon the face of things unknown, and gone mad. His mother had told him them often enough. Instead, he focused on the woman, who was laughing, her arms thrown into the air as shadows crept around her feet.

"My Lord," she shouted, grin splitting her face so grotesquely, Carlos thought it unnatural, "Take me as your willing sacrifice! Take me, and rise up into this world!

Carlos turned, retching miserably as the shadows suddenly shot up and the sound of flesh and bone tearing filled the air. He coughed and stumbled, gasping as the shadows began to slither towards his own feet. “No, no no no,” he hissed, side stepping and twirling around to avoid the whispering tendrils of darkness. “CECIL,” he finally screamed, turning towards the circle. He could see little through the rapidly thickening darkness, making him wonder if, perhaps, he was too late. But, no, he was still alive and breathing, so there had to still be time to save Cecil, and perhaps, if what that woman was saying was true, the known world.

An angry sounding growl emanated from the darkness, prompting Carlos to wrack his brain for those stories his mother had told him, hoping that one of them held some sort of way to stop an otherworldly creature from using Cecil as a portal into their world. He paused when one in particular finally struck him, curling his fingers more tightly around the dagger still clutched in his hand. He recalled one his mother had told him, where in the end, a young girl had sacrificed herself to save the man she loved. In her death, and by her blood, he’d risen up and gone on to live a prosperous life, though one that, Carlos thought, lacked love. And that was it, wasn’t it? A sacrifice had to be made to stop this creature. True as it was that the woman had given herself to the beast, her soul had been vile, and dark. And no matter what Cecil claimed about tainting Carlos, he knew, or at least hoped, that his life blood would be enough to stop the monster.

And if not, then he prayed that Cecil would not condemn him for his decision.

"Willfully given, but not in darkness," he murmured, closing his eyes as he stepped forward towards the circle where he knew Cecil was, dagger held aloft in his hand. Quietly at first, but slowly growing in volume, he began to recite scripture as he continued to walk, stopping only when his feet refused to carry him further. He stopped finally when he felt something brush against his cheek, something cold, but gentle. He took a deep, hitching breath, finally opening his eyes to gaze up into the writhing mass of too many limbs and mouths and eyes and everything that Cecil had become. He let a wobbly smile touch his lips as he raised the dagger. He quickly sliced the dagger over one wrist, flinching as red rushed to the surface. He shuddered when what appeared to be a tentacle tried to take his dagger away, only making him stumble back and quickly slash at his other wrist. He swallowed thickly as drops of his blood began to drip onto the ground, the faint sound of hissing following as it smeared the drawings scrawled over the dirt.

"I…I love you," he managed to hum, offering the mass that he assumed was Cecil a smile, before plunging the dagger into his chest, and falling to his knees, the sharp sounds of otherworldly shrieks filling the air.

Carlos wavered slightly, looking up as the darkness began to ebb, and the shapeless mass of things that made Carlos’ brain snap, began to shrink. He groaned as he fell to the side, the tendrils of shadow that had been trying to grab him skittering away and disappearing entirely. He smiled as the world lightened as the moon came back into view, and his vision began to blur.

"Carlos!"

Carlos blinked slowly, the weight of his eyelids making him feel like he should just let them fall shut, and not bother trying to open them again. Instead, he struggled to open them back up as something-no, someone- fell to the ground next to his fallen form. He let his eyes roll so he could see it was Cecil, naked and shivering on his knees next to him, tears rolling in waves down his cheeks.

"You’re back," Carlos whispered, his breath quickly becoming ragged.

"Yes," Cecil whispered, carefully pushing Carlos onto his back, "I am." He offered Carlos a wavering smile, before a sob wracked his frame. "Thanks to you," he murmured, brushing his fingers over the monk’s shoulder and down his chest, pausing at the dagger still protruding there. He let out a sound of anguish, curling his fingers around the hilt and giving it a good yank and throwing it across the clearing once it was free of Carlos’ chest, wincing at the quiet cry of pain it elicited from Carlos.

"I’m sorry," Cecil wept, tugging Carlos’ head onto his lap and brushing his fingers through the monk’s hair. "I’m so sorry, Carlos."

"Don’t be," Carlos murmured, letting his eyes slip shut, "I’m just so very glad that I got to meet you. And be myself."

Cecil shook his head, scratching his fingers over Carlos’ scalp, a hysterical noise, something between a laugh and a sob, escaping his lips. “Was it worth the endangerment of your life?” he wept, ducking his head down to press their foreheads together.

"Always," Carlos breathed, slowly relaxing into the darkness. Though this time, it was a warm, welcoming darkness instead of the cold, foreboding one that came with Cecil’s father.

"Please don’t leave me, Carlos," Cecil cried, yanking Carlos more closely to his chest, rocking slightly. "What am I going to do without you?! Don’t leave me!"

"Cecil."

Cecil jerked, his hold on Carlos’ slowly cooling body tightening, his red rimmed gaze flicking up to stare wide eyed at the source of the voice. It sounded like Carlos, and looked like Carlos, but Cecil knew it obviously couldn’t be, since he was cold and bloody in his lap. What stood before him was a young man, smiling brightly, curls of white, wispy light slowly wafting away from his body.

"Cecil," the spirit repeated, crouching down next to the still sobbing boy, who curled away from him.

"No. No no no. You aren’t dead. You can’t be dead. I don’t want you to be dead!" Cecil babbled, coughing and choking on his breath and spit, shaking his head violently while squeezing his eyes shut.

"Cecil," Carlos’ spirit whispered again, reaching out insubstantial fingers to wisp through Cecil’s hair. "Please don’t hate me for this. I know I’ve left you alone in this world," he murmured, tilting his head, hoping Cecil would look at him, "But there was no other way to save you. I told you once, that I would rather spend a small amount of time being myself, than go on living a lie. And I did. I got to be myself, thanks to you. So, I felt it only right that you got to be yourself, and not what others dictated to you. So, please, Cecil. Go and explore the world that was hidden away from you. Discover who you are, and live. For me."

Cecil hiccupped, finally blinking his eyes open to peer up at Carlos, noting how the light of the moon seemed to shine right through him. It made him look like an angel. “How can I go on without you?”

"You’ll figure something out, I’m sure," Carlos hummed, pressing a fleeting kiss to Cecil’s brow, which felt more like the chill of a cool breeze to the other.

"I’ll miss you so much," Cecil whispered, clutching Carlos’ body close, before sighing and letting his grip slowly loosen.

"I’ll come back to you one day, Cecil," Carlos promised, making a quick criss-cross over his chest.

Cecil snorted, wiping at his nose with his arm. “How? I thought you didn’t take much stock in spiritual things,” he muttered, carefully setting Carlos’ body on the ground next to him, before rising onto shaky legs.

"Yes, well," Carlos chuckled, rising up so he and Cecil were eye level with each other, "I’m beginning to take a little more stock in the unexplainable. It’s sort of hard not to when you’re a ghost."

Cecil couldn’t help the short burst of laughter that escaped him, covering his mouth quickly with a hand. He sniffed loudly, dropping his hand to his side to smile sadly at Carlos. “I love you too, you know.”

Carlos smiled, shifting forward to trace his fingers along Cecil’s jaw. “Good bye, Cecil,” he whispered, slowly drifting backwards.

"No," Cecil said, loosely crossing his arms over his stomach, watery smile still on his lips as he watched Carlos vanish into the night sky, "Just good night, for now."

~Epilogue~

Cecil hummed to himself as he strode down the street, greeting Old Woman Josie with a small smile and a wave, while steadfastly ignoring the imposing figure walking next to her. If there was one thing Cecil had learned since the angels had come to Night Vale, it was that he should never make eye contact with them. The one time he had, he found his glamour slipping, and he had to take cover in the back of Big Rico’s while he struggled to get his appearance back under control. It hadn’t been a very fun day; especially when he’d gone in to work, and Station Management had tried to corporeally absorb him, since he’d apparently been giving off some sort of weird energy signalling to them that he wanted to join them. He’d had to explain how he’d simply had a slip up thanks to an angel, and that he was definitely not ready to be part of the collective, but thanks for the offer.

He’d moved to the desert after years of roaming around the world, doing just as Carlos had asked of him; discovering who he was, by his own definition. Along the way he’d found that, with the proper awakening of the powers bestowed upon him due to his father’s blood, his aging stopped working as it once had. He was sure that if he’d lived out his life at the abbey, as he was positive the Father had planned, he would have aged normally, and eventually died, thanks to that seal. But, since it was no longer anything more than a rather ugly scar sprawling over his heart, his aging slowed to a snail’s pace, leaving him appearing youthful despite his years. In turn, he’d moved around an awful lot, even venturing occasionally to other worlds, where he visited alternate versions of the world he’d grown up in and was used to. His favorite place to visit had been alternate Europe, where he’d been chased through a labyrinth in Fraunchia, rolled down a hill for unknown years with a mysterious traveling partner in Svitz, and met many interesting people in Luftnarp. None of which existed in his world, but they’d certainly been fascinating to compare.

When he’d finally become tired of traveling, with not having seen hide nor hair or even the faintest hint of his beloved Carlos returning to him, he’d decided it would be best to settle down. If Carlos hadn’t returned to him in those 200 years, he wasn’t holding much hope in him ever returning. After all, he’d learned from those he’d met over the years that the afterlife was supposed to be paradise for souls. He really couldn’t blame Carlos for not coming back.

Thus, he’d settled in the desert, letting his influence roll over the landscape, creating a town he could call home, without anyone ever questioning his barely changing appearance, or the odd occurrences that had a tendency to follow him around. Inevitably, others were drawn to his safe haven, including figures that refused to let him peek under their hoods, folks who were just this side of not quite human enough to pass through life with the rest of the world without question, and even plain old regular people who had grown bored with their mundane lives.

In turn, Cecil found his creation slowly sprawling out of his control, with outside forces leaking in through the edges, making his home less of a safe haven, and more of an oddity in and of itself. He’d struggled with that fact for some time, before simply letting it be as it was. To keep things stable, though, he kept the borders hidden as well as he could as the technological age began to take over, and created his radio station, making sure his citizens were always well informed of all the goings on in the town.

He sighed, stretching his arms over his head happily as he continued on his way, having been told by Station Management of a town meeting that had been called by a group of scientists. Not the first to enter his town, and more than likely not the last, either. Those who’d come before had fled shortly after their arrival, and so he believed this new group would fair just about as well.

That was, of course, until he’d set eyes on the leader of the small, rag-tag team seated on the raised stage at the far end of the meeting hall.

"Hello," greeted the man right in the middle, standing at the podium in the middle of the stage. "My name is Carlos," he grinned, shuffling a few papers around on the podium, "and me and my team are here to study your town; the most scientifically interesting town in the country. We’re going to try and figure out just what is going on around here."

**Author's Note:**

> - _Choir Monks_ : Dedicated their time to prayer and learning  
> - _Lay Monks_ : Were not bound by stricter rules of prayer, and were responsible for the day-to-day tasks around an abbey  
> - _Cloister_ : walkway built around a central garden of abbey  
> - _Altar_ : Table at front of church where the cross is located  
> - _Night Stairs_ : Located, often, on the east side of the church, leading up to where the choir monks would sleep  
> - _Dormitories_ : Building located outside of the church, but inside the abbey where monks would sleep  
> - _Reredorter_ : The equivalent of indoor toilets of the time.  
> - _Dean_ : The head, or leader, of the group running the church


End file.
